Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 40, No. 6, June, 1995

“But Edwina — perhaps I should call him Edwin — made one glaring mistake. Did you notice how she appeared particularly interested in you?”

“Well, I... I,” Thaddeus reddened down to his fingernails.

“I don’t want to disparage you, Thaddeus, but let’s face it. Why would a woman’s amorous intentions be directed to a pimply-faced youth when there was a mature man of obviously superior attributes in the same room? The answer is evident: a younger, inexperienced person can be more easily manipulated.

“Thaddeus, our client does not want us to find a missing cockatoo at all. He probably already has one. Our client wants us to locate Igor Cranston.”

“Wow!” said the awestruck Thaddeus. “I would have never figured...”

“Don’t be disheartened, Thaddeus. It takes years of training to be able to think as I do. Now we must work fast. Follow Edwin, or Edwina if you prefer it that way. Don’t let him out of your sight. I don’t know what this transvestite’s game is, but we will find out. Stay with him until you see the lights in his apartment go out, then report to me. I am going to see my old friend and brother-in-law Captain LeStreet at the police department. He may be able to give us some information on this Igor Cranston.”

Ocean Beach is a small, incorporated town on the Florida coast. Normally the Ocean Beach Police Department is a quiet place. The usual police activity is dispensing speeding tickets to tourists and occasionally stopping two eighty-year-old retired accountants from fighting over a parking space. On this day, however, the place was buzzing. There had been an attempted robbery at the Bloomingsax department store, and a guard had been wounded.

Captain James LeStreet was a small man with a roly-poly body and a matching round, florid face. His white hair, which usually stood up like two pointed horns on either side of his balding head, was flattened with perspiration. He was trying to simultaneously answer a phone call from the city council president, interrogate a witness, and get a report from a patrolman. The second phone on his desk started ringing just as Edgar walked in.

“Oh no. Not you, Edgar. Not today!” Captain LeStreet wiped his head with a crumpled, damp handkerchief.

Edgar was used to his brother-in-law’s gruff ways. Since LeStreet had married Edgar’s sister Dottie, Edgar had been involved in many of his cases. Edgar’s help might not have been outwardly appreciated, but he knew that underneath Captain LeStreet’s irascible exterior was a confused little man crying for help. Edgar was always there to help. Dottie made sure of that. Dottie loved her little brother and insisted, under threat of connubial disharmony, that her husband use Edgar’s talents.

It was a two-way street. Edgar knew that he could always expect any help he needed from the Ocean City Police captain. On this day, he had come to get information about Igor Cranston, but one glance at the excited confusion of the police captain’s office indicated to Edgar that this was one of those times when LeStreet needed the calm, incisive mind of detective Edgar Snavely more than Edgar needed him.

“I was going to ask you for some information on a certain character that I am investigating, James, but I see that you are quite busy at the moment. Perhaps if you could tell me a little about the problem you are working on, I might be of some assistance.”

Captain LeStreet opened his mouth to express in no uncertain terms the manner in which Edgar might best be of assistance to his police department, but then he had the quick picture of his returning home that evening to a less than happy Dottie. He took a deep breath, dismissed the others from his office, and dutifully started his explanation to the attentive Edgar.

“There has been an attempted robbery of a bank truck that was picking up the day’s receipts at the delivery dock of Bloomingsax department store. Several employees had noticed a suspicious looking man casing the delivery dock for the past couple of days and had reported it to management. The manager of Bloomingsax is a friend of mine, and he asked me to look into it. I had some shopping to do for Dottie anyway, so I personally went to Bloomingsax yesterday to investigate the problem. At the loading dock, I observed a ‘John Doe’ across the street, acting suspiciously, but he didn’t break any laws so I just made a note of it and continued my shopping. This afternoon an attempt was made to rob the bank truck at the Bloomingsax loading dock by an armed man. The bank truck guard pulled his gun, but not fast enough. The perpetrator fired, and fled without getting any money. The guard was badly wounded, however.”

Edgar was perplexed. “There doesn’t seem to be a problem here, James. This ‘John Doe’ was seen by the guard, by several employees, and even by you. It would seem that there would be no problem in apprehending him.”